


maybe we can stay

by la_victorienne



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-20
Updated: 2009-01-20
Packaged: 2018-10-16 00:52:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10560620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/la_victorienne/pseuds/la_victorienne
Summary: ianto is talking to ghosts.





	

Crispy chimes of Autumn, spread out upon natures floor.  
The falling greens of spring and summer, now taking on a brown like decor.  
Bare bodies stand naked, their bones clanging in the wind.  
Hoping to soon be reclothed, by winters cool new offerings.

\--Robert M. Hensel,  
Winters Offerings

“First snow came last week,” Ianto says, stretching out on the cool ground with a thermos in hand, his back resting against the strong tree. “I always forget how excited Jack gets in the first snow – he and Gwen spent twenty minutes throwing snowballs at each other on the Plass. I stayed in, of course, and made hot chocolate. I missed you, though – remember the last time? You sat with me while I steamed the milk and we talked about our own childhoods.” Ianto smiles and takes a sip of his coffee. “Goodness, I do miss you.”

He sits in silence for a while, looking out over the green land, letting the quiet settle around him, even seep into his bones. It’s caution that brings him here, care for his own sanity and his life’s value – not for himself, but for the people who need him. Just like he needed Tosh.

“She must appreciate it,” he hears, and smiles. Even for a moment, he cannot be lost; Jack follows him wherever he goes with a telling accuracy. At least he waited, gave Ianto some privacy, some solitude with his simple grief. It’s not a graveyard; Tosh is still locked in a cold freezer with her hands folded over her chest and her name etched on the outside of the drawer. But this green and rolling land is her resting place, and both Jack and Ianto know it.

They will continue to come here, every so often, until the trees have turned a thousand times and the world has forgotten such a peace as this exists, because this is the place that belonged to her. Unnamed and unknowable, Ianto thinks, and it feels just a bit like home.


End file.
